Late, Happy, Trembling, Pleased
by QueenOfTheDreamers87
Summary: February 1997. Bellatrix is... late. She announces her unexpected news to the Dark Lord and receives an unexpected response. T-Rated Bellamort One-Shot.


_February 1997_

_Malfoy Manor_

Bellatrix's breath trembled in her nostrils as she stood outside the office of her Lord and Master. She raised her hand to knock, squeezed her eyes shut, and felt queasy for the sixth time today. She whipped her wand out, aimed it at her own throat, and whispered,

"_Nonemesis._"

The nausea and sensation that she might vomit abated. Bellatrix gulped and tucked her wand into the billowing black linen dress she'd belted carefully. She licked her lips, raised her fist once more, and rapped her knuckles on the door. Normally she knocked carefully, three even knocks, but now she tapped frenetically.

This was rather urgent, after all.

"Enter," called his voice, and Bellatrix's fingers quivered around the doorknob as she turned it. She pushed the door open and managed to step into the office, shutting the door behind her. Lord Voldemort was seated at his stout wooden desk, and he glanced up from his copy of _The Daily Prophet_ as Bellatrix came walking in.

"Hello," he said tightly. "Newt Scamander's turned one hundred, apparently. Even Dumbledore made an appearance at the birthday party. We ought to have tried to strike him there. It was an opportunity, perhaps… you're pale today."

Bellatrix licked her lips again. She took another step into the office and sighed. Since her escape from Azkaban, she and Lord Voldemort had been… strange… around one another. In the years before his disappearance, they'd often flirted. They'd kissed a few times. He'd taken her body one rather mad time, in 1977, when she'd been tipsy and the war had been raging. But then he'd disappeared and she'd gone off to Azkaban, to stare through barred windows at floating Dementors who never managed to rob her of her loyalty to Lord Voldemort. They'd been reunited - she'd been older, and he'd become a white-faced monster. Some things had changed very significantly; other things had stayed the same.

One issue that had only engorged itself within Bellatrix's mind throughout her imprisonment had been the extent to which she adored Lord Voldemort, and he had taken full advantage of this upon her release. Once she'd been cleaned and healed, he had taken her with his strange new body, and it had been paradise. They'd dined together, more than once. They'd gone on quiet walks, discussing tactics of the war. Voldemort frequently reminded Bellatrix that there were certain things only she could hear, certain ways only she could see him, and she knew she was closer to him than anyone else, except, perhaps, for Nagini.

The snake was beside Voldemort right now, curled up beside his desk, and Bellatrix remembered the way Voldemort had always sent Nagini out of the room in their intimate moments, as though he couldn't bear the thought of his pet snake watching him strip off Bellatrix's clothes. Bellatrix shivered now, feeling a tremor of nausea in her core. This unease, she knew, had nothing to do with the sickness she'd felt for weeks now.

They had not been careful. She was too old. He was no longer human. Not really. Neither of them could…

"My Lord," Bellatrix murmured, staring at the toes of her dragon-hide boots, "I have something I need to tell you."

There was silence for a little moment, and then Voldemort said, sounding almost offended,

"You've got your Occlumency shields up."

Bellatrix curled her lips up sadly, raising her eyes to him. "You taught me to never, ever put them down."

"So I did." Voldemort nodded. His scarlet eyes gleamed, and his pale lips tightened. "What is the matter, Bella?"

"My Lord," Bellatrix said, chomping her lip hard, feeling her eyes well heavily and her nose burn, "I am… I am… late."

"Late." Voldemort repeated the word as a bite, and his eyes blazed so brightly red all of a sudden that Bellatrix was frightened. Nagini's head raised up, as if she sensed her master's unease, and Bellatrix backed up a step.

"I'm so sorry," Bellatrix said. "I will take care of it. I've only just done the maths on it all and realised… you know, realised why I've not been feeling well in myself."

Voldemort's eyes shut, and his long fingernails dragged over his bald head as he hissed,

"You went dashing from dinner four nights ago and did not return."

"I'm sorry; I thought I had taken ill with something, My Lord," Bellatrix said, feeling tears spill over her eyes. "I did not realise… you see, during my imprisonment, I was in quite a state of malnutrition, and nothing was regular, so… I shall, of course, attend to this promptly."

"What are you talking about?" Voldemort snapped. He flew out of his chair then and stalked across the office, looming over Bellatrix and terrifying her. He overwhelmed her, with his size and his appearance and his very presence, and she trembled. Her hand instinctively went to her abdomen, and Voldemort seethed again, "What the blazes are you talking about, you'll _take care of it?_ You shall take care of yourself. That's what will happen. Bellatrix, that child is _mine._ You are my soldier, and you are bearing my child, and I command you to be careful now. Do you understand me?"

Her mouth fell open, and she just stared. She watched his fingers course over his head again, and he asked quietly,

"How far along?"

"Erm… nine weeks, Master," Bellatrix said in a meek voice. "I think. It was… you know, around Christmas."

"Oh. Yes, of course." Voldemort huffed a breath and shook his head, looking away. "I have no idea why neither of us found it necessary to take precautions."

"Because I am old, Master," Bellatrix mumbled, leaving out the part about him seeming mostly serpentine these days. He stared at the wall and said,

"Well. Nine weeks. I shall brew you up a proper Anti-Emesis Draught to keep the sickness at bay until you're feeling well again."

Bellatrix's tears flowed more freely then, and she whispered helplessly, "Th-Thank you. I'm so sorry."

"Bella." Voldemort turned his eyes on her, and he crossed his arms over his chest. He shook his head. "I did not want an heir."

"I am sorry, Master," Bellatrix said again, but Voldemort cut in,

"Now I have got one, within the womb of my most devoted and capable servant, and I find myself remarkably happy."

He did not look happy. He looked… she couldn't quite read his face. His eyes were like glittering rubies studying her face. His lips were pinched into a tight line. His fingers had cinched around his own biceps, and he let out a breath that seemed less than steady.

"You have made me happy, Bellatrix," Voldemort said, nodding. "I am pleased with you."

"You're _pleased_ with me?" She choked out the words, her disbelief thick in her throat. She took a little step toward him, and he unfurled his arms. He put his hands on Bellatrix's cheeks, his long nails scratching just a little at her cheeks and making her shiver. He tipped her head back a little bit and bent down, his breath mingling with hers. His was cold and hers was hot, and as his lips brushed hers, she gasped. She longed so badly to be his right now.

"You _are_ mine, Bellatrix," he whispered. "Both of you are."

She realised she'd let down her Occlumency shields in a moment of mental weakness, impaired by what he was doing to her. He touched at her belly, covering her hand with his, and he kissed her more deeply. He pressed his other hand to the small of her back and drew her near, his tongue creeping between her lips. Bellatrix slid up against Voldemort and tried to breathe him in, tried to drink in the very essence of him, and his hands tightened on her. He finally dragged his cold lips away and touched his forehead to hers, whispering,

"I am pleased with you."

He tucked Bellatrix's wild curls behind her ear and kept his face close to hers, and he continued,

"No more combat for you until after the child is born."

Bellatrix resisted the urge to protest. She was a soldier. Wasn't her duty to fight in this war? She shut her eyes and held fast to the front of Voldemort's loose robes, and he explained,

"I will not have you putting my child in harm's way. You will stay hidden and safe until the child's birth, and then you will fight again."

"Yes, Master," Bellatrix agreed. She felt his fingers lace through hers and dust over her belted abdomen, and he hummed,

"My soldier, my servant. Mother of my heir. Bellatrix…"

He kissed her again, so deeply this time that she actually staggered backward a step. He didn't stop kissing her this time. He kissed her and kissed her until her lips felt bruised, until her fingers felt weak holding onto him, and at last he pulled back, panting, and said confidently,

"You have made me happy."


End file.
